


Layover

by ImmortalxSnow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Airports, Also an old fic, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Drabble, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Slowly editing and importing all my stuff, Sort Of, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:02:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImmortalxSnow/pseuds/ImmortalxSnow
Summary: "He'd never tell Norway, but Iceland loved sitting in airports with his brother." A drabble about Norway's reassuring presence in Iceland's life.
Relationships: Iceland & Norway (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Layover

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.net in 2016.

He'd never tell Norway, but Iceland loved sitting in airports with his brother.

Part of it was the bitter tang of the airport coffee they drank together while waiting for their plane to arrive, and the way the steam swirled around Norway's dark blue eyes and blond hair. Part of it, too, was the way Norway waited silently just beyond the security checkpoint while Iceland struggled with his bag, his shoes, his coat. He didn't rush in to help. He didn't snicker when Iceland's boarding pass slipped through his fingers and disappeared beneath a table. He simply waited.

It was here in the airport, in this liminal space, that Iceland felt closest to his brother. Everyone else was hurrying away to destinations across the world. All the other passengers were following their own narratives, which intersected with each other just long enough for self-awareness. Long enough for each person to recognize his or her ephemeral existence, but not long enough to reach out beyond the limits of time.

But as all these stories and lives came together only to come apart, Norway remained. He remained with all his annoying insistence on being called "older brother," his penchant for over-protectiveness, and that mysterious smirk on his face that only Iceland could conjure. Even when he annoyed Iceland, Norway was a constant, reassuring presence amid the rush of people, of stories, of existence. He was there. Sitting straight and strong, with his warm white scarf and his blue hat with the loose thread that Denmark liked to pull on. And while Iceland would never see any of these other people again, he'd have countless more years to watch Norway swirl his coffee cup, run his fingers along the smooth plastic rim, and sip the grainy dregs of his espresso. He'd have centuries to feel his brother's quiet love.

"C'mon," Norway said. He reached over and patted Iceland on the head, which earned him a scowl. "We should head to our gate."

He threw away their coffee cups and gestured over his shoulder for Iceland to follow him down the concourse.

On that short walk, Iceland dropped his boarding pass again and panicked for a second as he tried to find it amid the crowd of feet on the scuffed floor.

But when he stood up, bag slipping down his shoulder, Norway was there.

Still waiting.


End file.
